Friday, December 30, 2011

Sorry this post is late this week .... Hope you're still enjoying Joseph Farquaharson's work - today's painting is called "A Winter's Morning". He seemed to like painting the wonderful colors of sunrise and sunset on snow. Notice again the light and sky colors reflected in the water under the bridge. I thought the birds were a fun touch, too.

Thursday, December 22, 2011

I'm posting today's painting by Joseph Farqaharson twice as I found two quite different versions of it. The second one looks like his colors and soft textures, but the first gives more detail. I hope you enjoy them both. There are many little details to take in and remember.

There are some interesting and challenging ideas in the following poem by Amy Carmichael - missionary to India

GOD'S THREAD

"An ill dread is hanging over me,

Slung on a single strand of cobweb thread.

I do not know how I can live today

The usual life of common duties, turn

A calm front to the day's perplexities,

A smile upon its small, persistent cares--

While inwardly a raging fear devours

Courage in mouthfuls; and my chariot wheels

Drag heavily; and gladness flies from me,

leaving me standing shivering on the edge

Of unknown desolation; and all things

Look dark to me. O God, Thou knowest my fear;

Go Thou not far from me lest trouble be near."

"An ill thou dreadest hanging over thee,

Slung on a single silken strand of cobweb thread--

Think: Is it cobweb thread? No spider of chance

Spun that fine-twined thread from out herself

In blind obedience to some unknown law.

But I, thy God, thy Father, spun that thread

Whose very substance is My eternal will,

My eternal Love. And in My hand I hold

The further end and guard its whole long length

From human intermeddling. I may use

Some visible hand to operate and loose

The seeming ill, but I alone am He

With whom thou hast to do. And I, thy God,

The Father of Lights in whom no variableness

Nor shadow cast by turning ever was,

Am with thee, to be light to all thy days,

Even to the end. Therefore, thou wilt be strong

And more than conqueror; for I am here:

I go not from My own when trouble is near."

And two for Christmas:

THE KING IN A MANGERWhen the morning stars sang together, and allThe sons of God shouted for joy,He was there--who was laid in a manger madeFor little calves of the stall: The King, the King of Eternity, Laid His glory by for thee and for me.

Who hung the round world upon nothing--He layA babe on His mother's lap.Who made of the clouds swaddling bands for the sea,Her gentle hands did Him wrap: The king, the King of Eternity, Laid His glory by for thee and for me.

Oh, well may we love our kingly Lord,Oh, well may we love our KingWho for love of us all became weak and smallAs any baby thing. The King, the King of Eternity, Laid His glory by for thee

A QUIET MINDWhat room is there for troubled fear?I know my Lord, and He is near;And He will light my candle, soThat I may see the way to go. O Love, O Light, I sing to Thee, And in my heart make melody.

There need be no bewildermentTo one who goes where he is sent;The trackless plain by night and dayIs setwith signs lest he should stray. O Love, O Light, I sing to Thee. And in my heartmakemelody.

My path may cross a waste of sea,But that need never frighten me;Or rivers full to very brim,But they are open ways to Him, O Love, O Light, I sing to Thee, And in my heart make melody.

My path may lead through woods atnight,Where neither moon nor any lightOf guiding star or beacon shin3es;He will not letme missmy signs, O Love, O Light, I sing to Thee, And in my heart make melody.

Friday, December 2, 2011

I'd like to introduce you to a new artist this week -Joseph Farquharson. Joseph Farquharson who was from Scottland painted in both oil and watercolor. As a child, he used his father's paint box on Saturdays which was the only day his father allowed him to paint. When he turned 12 his father bought him his first paints and only a year later he exhibited his first painting at the Royal Scottish Academy. His paintings often include sheep.

Our new composer is Ferdinando Carulli. The following is a quote from Wikipedia Maria Meinrado Francesco Pascale Rosario Carulli (Naples, 9 February 1770 – Paris, 17 February 1841) was an Italian composer for classical guitar and the author of the first complete classical guitar method, which continues to be used today. He wrote a variety of works for classical guitar, including concertos and chamber works. He was an extremely prolific writer for guitar, composing over 400 works for the instrument in the space of 12 years.

JOY COMES SINGINGLord, I would take Thy comfortings With both hands gratefuly,And grief's dark overshadowings, As lightly as may be--For they belong to evenings; Joy comes with day to me,Comes running with the day to me.

Although my wayside inn at night May harbor grief as guest,With dawn he swiftly takes his flight-- And like a bird to nest,Dear joy comes singing with delight, As she comes home to rest;Dear joy comes singing home to rest.

ILLUMINATIONThe SkyIn me is light:Consider well my sun, his rise, his setting;My glory of noon.Let there be no forgettingMy sparkling dust of stars; my exceeding brightAnd quiet moon;My swift, forked lightnings. Where, if not in me,Is there illumination? Filled am IWith light that passeth all things. Thus, the sky.

The SeaIn me is light:Most wondrous is the glory of my gleaming;My waterways,With delicate sunbeams dreamingIn intricate, netted dances do unite.My very hazeIs luminous; and my night is lit with lampsMysteriously moving. Yea, in meIs all illumination. Thus, the sea.

The EarthIn me is light:My flowers are dressed in garments light-enwoven'My creatures reignRoyal in colors. ClovenBy fire or frost, my substance, depth or height,Discovers veinOn vein of lustrous metals, jewel beds,Hidden illumination. All the mirthO lightsome things possess I. Thus, the earth. * * * * * * * * * * * I listen to the voices of the sky;I listen to the voices of the sea;The earth, with all her various loveliness, singsSweet songs to me.But something in me wanders wistful still,Unsatisfied;Beyond the light of earth and sea and skyIs there no light beside?I stand outside life's shining palace halls,Disconsolate;Will no one come, interpret mysteries,Unlock the gate?* * * * * * * * * * * * * After this I looked, and behold,A door was opened in heaven.And by desire made bold,Forward I ran, and saw the ColorsSevenEntangled as a rainbow caught in spray,Over-arch the way;Whence issued pure, foam-white,From fountain springs of light,The exhaustless love of the Lord.(O rich rewardFor poverty of yearning!)Glowing, burning,I had felt the heats of the world's brilliance pass;As withered grassThey left me, scorched by the very glow.

No penetrating Through the last layers of the dusty clodI call my soul, the love of God,Lover of lovers, cameKeen as a flame,IlluminatingBy that strange, spiritual brightness, my waste lands.And lo,The whole wide world did to my Lover singIn colors; even the desert sandsWere quickened and were green, recoveringAll in a moment, verdure. And a rainMixed with the light, swept by and cleansed the air.

Oh, it was beautiful,Beyond the reachOf mind to think it, heart to adore it--Beautiful.All previous lights paled utterly before it.I stood upon the beachOf infinite joys and gazedAnd gazed again,All humbled and amazedBy the tumultous rush of mine own happinessAnd only knew to blessThe Giver and confessMyself content to be forever there.

Till a familiar voice came unto me and said:"Although life shedHer visible glories, still do thou believe.Doubt not what thou hast seen; rather, retrieveThine own--for no decptive dream,To fade or fail,That vision beautiful.But thou must learn to prevail By force of faith. Be humble, dutiful,Sincere, without offence,And quick to penitence;And put far from thee vanity and lies,Thy stedfast eyesSet on the invisible. And knowAssuredly: above, below,Behind the changes of thy changeful heart,Behind the fluctuations of thy will,Uninfluenced by the influences of time,The love of the Lord, once thine,Continues with thee. PartIn no wise from this assurance; let it fillThy being with its gladness. In thy GodLearn thou to hold thee still.

"Then, in those desperate moments when there slipsSense of possession from thee,And fear stripsFeeling from off thee,And thou standest alone--Then, then, oh be it knownThrough to the core of thee, that Love remains!For no bewildering painsOf life or death can wrest her from thee,No, not even stainsOr shadows of thy sin dim her illumination;Her tranquilityShaming thy restlessness,Her light, like to a pearl most precious."

Fell quietness then, and hushed me. All creationLay back from me, as owningItself surpassed. And as a homing,Tired bird returns into her nest,My soul returned unto her rest.

WHAT IS DISCIPLINEWhen I refuse the easy thing for love of my dear Lord,And when I choose the harder thing for love of my dear Lord,And do not make a fuss or speak a single grumbling word; That is discipline.

When everything seems going wrong and yet I will not grouse,When it is hot, and I am tired, and yet I will not grouse,But sing a song and do my work in school and in the house; That is discipline.

When Satan whispers, "Scamp your work"--to say to him, "I won't,"When Satan whispers, "Slack a bit"--to say to him, "I won't,"To rule myself and not to wait for others' "Do" and "Don't"; That is discipline.

When I look up and triumph over every sinful thing,The things that no one knows about--the cowardly, selfish thing--And when with heart and will I live to please my glorious King; That is discipline.

To trample on that curious thing inside me that says "I,"To think of others always--never, never of that "I,"To learn to live according to my Savior's word, "Deny"; That is discipline.

I WANT TO CLIMBI want to climb the air;I want to find the stair,But I cannot find it anywhere.

I know quite well there areGreat things up there--far, far;I should like to stand upon a star.

THE KING IN THE MANGERWhen the morning stars sang together, and allThe sons of God shouted for joy,He was there--who was laid in a manger madeFor teh little calves of the stall: The king, the King of Eternity, Laid His glory by for thee and for me.

Who hung the round world upon nothing--He layA babe on His mother's lap.Who made of the clouds swaddling bands for the sea,Her gentle hands did Him wrap: The King, the King of Eternity, Laid His glory by for thee and for me.

Oh, well may we love our kingly Lord,Oh, well may we love our KingWho for love of us all became weak and smallAs any baby thing. The King, the King of Eternity, Laid His glory by for thee and for me.

ANTS: A CHILD'S QUESTIONEach has its little life to live;Each has its death to die.But each is such a minute speck of lifeThat though we may fervently try,We cannot concern ourselves very muchWhether it live of die.

Are we as minute to the angels who lookDown from their place in the sky?Do the great people thereVery greatly careWhether we laugh or cry?To them are we mere little atoms of lifeThat are born, grow old, and die?

No, no.It is not so:For One who is higher than they Took flesh of our flesh and stooped to dieIn pitiful, human way.

And ever since that wonderful dayWhen the Highest lifted us high,To the angels we are not common clay,Not morsels and motes to come and to go,But beings beloved, in whom they knowIs the mystic seed of eternity:They see in us that which yet shall be.

I hope you have been enjoying the poetry of Amy Carmichael as much as I have! Here are two more of her works.

FOR JESUSJesus, Savior, dost Thou seeWhen I'm doing things for Thee?Common things, not great and grand:Carrying stones, and earth and sand?

"I did common work, you know,Many, many years ago;And I don't forget. I seeEverything you do for Me."

JESUS' WAYSIf Jesus built a ship, She would travel trim;If Jesus roofed a barn, No leaks would be left by Him;If Jesus planted a garden, He would make it like Paradise;If Jesus did my day's work, It would delight His Father's eyes.

Thursday, October 6, 2011

New poems by Amy Carmichael today. Hope you enjoy the painting and music again. How is this working out for you all? Would you prefer a new painting and piece of music weekly or do you prefer having them for two consecutive weeks as we've been doing? I'd like to hear from you what would work best for you. ThanksThis week's painting is Soap Bubbles by

Most of the poetry ofAmy Carmichaelthat we are featuring is for young people but I highly recommend all of her work. She was deeply devoted to the LORD and wrote beautiful poetry. She didn't shrink from painful or disappointing experiences but saw them as a part of God's plan and a fellowship in His sufferings, a taking up of her cross. You can read all of her work in Mountain Breezes which is a collection of her work.

BUBBLESWhat are bubbles made of? Tell me: Diamond flashes? Film of pearls?See, the smooth green water curls Round the shoulder Of a boulder; Something shatters, Something Scatters, Dances on the polished floor;More and more Come and go; Underflow Of swift water hurries past;Bubbles frolic on it, last Just a moment; others run In their myriads, and are spun Down the shining, sunlit river, On and on, and on forever.

OURS FOREVERAll that was ever ours is ours forever:Glory of greenwood and the shining river,Joy of companionship of kindred mind;All, all is ours. It is not left behindAmong the withered things that must decay;It is stored up for us, somewhere, and for another day.

Thursday, September 22, 2011

I've put much of the wonderful classical pieces we've been enjoying on this blog onto the playlist at the very bottom of this blog. Feel free to scroll down and use it as a pop-out player to continue listening to this music throughout the day.

We've looked at William Adolphe Bouguereau now I'd like to feature paintings by his second wife, Elisabeth. I think her paintings are very similar to her husbands and I like them a lot! As with his work hers is realistic. This painting makes me want to know what they were so quietly watching. The following is a brief biographical paragraph from the Art Renewal Center Museum. You can visit that site at the link following the paragraph.

ELIZABETH GARDENER BOUGUEREAUwas an American from New Hampshire who studied with William Bouguereau, later to become his second wife after the death of his first wife Nellie a few years prior. Her art historical influence is very significant, as she undoubtedly played a role in persuading her husband to use his influence as President of the Academy, Head of the Salon, and President of the Legion d'Honneur, to convince the Academie Julien (and a few years later the École des Beaux Arts) to open their doors to women for the first time in history.

Thursday, September 15, 2011

We've looked at William Adolphe Bouguereau now I'd like to feature paintings by his second wife, Elisabeth. I think her paintings are very similar to her husbands and I like them a lot! As with his work hers is realistic. This painting makes me want to know what they were so quietly watching. The following is a brief biographical paragraph from the Art Renewal Center Museum. You can visit that site at the link following the paragraph.

ELIZABETH GARDENER BOUGUEREAUwas an American from New Hampshire who studied with William Bouguereau, later to become his second wife after the death of his first wife Nellie a few years prior. Her art historical influence is very significant, as she undoubtedly played a role in persuading her husband to use his influence as President of the Academy, Head of the Salon, and President of the Legion d'Honneur, to convince the Academie Julien (and a few years later the École des Beaux Arts) to open their doors to women for the first time in history.

About Me

I am a follower of the LORD Jesus, Brian's wife for 34 years, a mother of 11, Grandma to ten. I love the LORD and His Word and I love my family, especially teaching and discipling my precious children. We're "addicted" to good books and having company, though not usually at the same time....